“Shall we patch you up and get you something for your headache?”
“Sure. Where?” I ask.
“The back office. There’s a first-aid kit there.”
“The back office?”
“The owner is a friend of mine,” he replies.
It’s not reassuring, but at least the guy who owns the place won’t have us arrested when he finds us in his office.
The crowd parts before us as he leads me to the far side of the club, melting away the way oil repels water. It’s odd, and the attention makes me uncomfortable, as all eyes follow our slow progression.
2
EVA
Ilimp into the office, and Mr.Giant, as I’ve taken to calling him in my head, definitely not to his face, lifts me onto the desk as though I weigh nothing. The movement is effortless and takes my breath away, my heart fluttering in a way I’m not sure it’s ever fluttered before.
I draw a deep breath to shake it off and slow my heart, then glance around the office.
Mr.Giant doesn’t turn on the lights. The only illumination is the blue glow of the computer and the row of security screens bolted to the wall. I can’t hear the music anymore, just a far-off bass rumble, but the screens show the crowd packed in again, dancing like the fight never happened.
Mr.Giant returns with an impressive train case full of first-aid supplies. It isn’t just a kit. It’s almost a full first-aid station.
“Are you a doctor?”
An amused quirk lifts one side of his full mouth as he pulls out a cotton pad pre-soaked in antiseptic and tears the package open.“No.Which is why I’m going to tell you to see a doctor. This might need stitches, and I’m not qualified.”
I wince at the sting of the antiseptic on the cut, but Mr.Beast’s touch is still oddly gentle for such large hands that knocked two guys out not ten minutes ago.
“It’s stopped bleeding,” he says, looking at my brow as he dabs. “A bruise is already forming, and it will be nasty.”
“Great.” That’s what I need. To explain away a bruise and gash to my father. Never mind the blood on my dress.
Will he even care?
Mr.Giant works in silence, and I use the moment to examine him at this distance. Unfortunately, the room is even darker than the dance floor, and he somehow keeps at least one side of his face in shadow, like he knows his angles. But I can still see his strong jaw, the waves of his hair, and the green of his eyes, which seem to glow in the dim light.
“Do you need a doctor’s note to explain your bruise?”
There it is again, that rumble that could be amusement or a lion’s warning purr.
I exhale. “No.I’m just annoyed. Frustrated.”
“Was that your boyfriend whose honor you were defending out there?”
Mr.Giant tosses the bloody pad into the wastebasket and reaches for an antiseptic healing cream. He dabs it on as if a stranger’s blood doesn’t faze him.
“No.” My lungs fill before all the air gushes out as a long, loud sigh. “It’s my idiot little brother. I was here to try to drag him out before he got into trouble. Turns out I was too late.”
“I assume this isn’t the first time he’s gotten into trouble?”
“You got that right.” The words slip from my mouth before I can stop them, and I clamp my lips shut. What the hell am I doing, spilling my family’s story to a complete stranger? My father would kill me if he knew. We keep to ourselves, keep our heads down, and mind our own business. It was the one rule Dad enforced with unwavering conviction.
Maybe it’s the hit I took to my head.
“What exactly did my head hit?”
